


the gain of summer

by solitariusvirtus, tenten_d



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Lannister!Lyanna, Middle Ages, Not meant to be taken as a serious attempt, Romantic Comedy, Shenanigans, re-post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenten_d/pseuds/tenten_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of Lord Rickard Stark prompts his widow, Lyarra Stark, to look for companionship to Lord Tywin Lannister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the gain of summer

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post. You already know the story. Will eventually add the last two parts when I feel like it. :)
> 
> Fair warning: multiple time skips, possible haziness and my usual annoying narrative style.

 

At the tender age of five, Lyanna Stark lost her father to a bitter illness. The child had in truth been more relieved than saddened by the occasion, for he had been most terrifying with blood dribbling down his chin and the unpleasant odour wafting from his rooms turned her stomach. She had been glad to have the windows open and the room cleared out.

Brandon's eyes had been red when their father's body was entombed. Ned had wept openly, clinging to their mother's skirts, his expression mirroring hers. Lyanna had only started shedding tears when the lid was placed upon the body, yet hers had not been of sorrow. She could not rightly understand why father had been taken down there, but she was sure he was to return.

It took her a few days to realise that father was not coming back, that he would not return with spoils from the hunt or gifts for his children. And then she had wailed and wailed, scaring her mother so bad that she nearly dropped Benjen, still a babe in arms. Lyanna had only grown quiet when Old Nan threatened to give her to the snarks and grumkins. Yet the sore remained.

That had been Lyanna's first brush with the knowledge of mortality, if not her own than that of others. The lesson had been taken to heart, at least until the pain lessened and she returned to being a cheerful little scarp, forever on her mother's heels, determined not to allow Lady Lyarra Stark to go too often down where father was. The darkness could swallow her, after all, and then Lyanna would be left with Brandon and Ned, who were forever ignoring her. And she would also have to care for Benjen and he drooled on the front of her dress.

Fortunately that was not the case. Lyarra Stark did not plan to leave her children anytime soon. In fact, it was her dearest wish to take them with her. One might expect that a young widow such as Lady Stark would not bare the loneliness for long. For though her children filled her days with joy, Lyarra Stark longed for a mate she could converse with on matters less frivolous than the beauty of the blue roses or whether one should be allowed riding before the age of ten. She had endured the loneliness as best she could for three years. Lyarra had mourned and observed every proper ritual, but her heart longed for affection that could only be found in a proper alliance.

Thus, the window of Rickard Stark took matters in her own hands and sought a man who might bring her joy and comfort. The perfect match she found in Lord Tywin Lannister. Having been delivered of a son thereafter widowed, Tywin was in a similar predicament as Lyarra herself. A lady of breeding and good manner, she wrote to the Lord Hand of the realm, proposing the match she had in mind, careful to outline the advantages of such a match.

To her great delight, Lord Lannister professed himself interested. She and her children if they wished to join her were invited as Casterly Rock where they were to discuss further the matter of marriage. Lyarra was happy to oblige such an invitation. She left nothing behind and no one, not even her oldest son, who by all accounts should have remained in Winterfell. Brandon, however, was so obstinate and rude that Lyarra found she had to send him back after not even a few hours of journeying. Disaster had been adverted by such a move.

"Now, Lyanna, you must remember to be courteous," Lyarra told her daughter. "Lord Lannister has a girl about your age. Befriend her, and you Ned, strive to make a good impression upon Lord Lannister's oldest son." It was of tantamount importance that the match not fall through.

Lady Stark needn't have worries though. Lord Lannister, having long since calculated the many advantages such a union could produce, was not at all opposed to leaving widowhood behind. Even more had his desire risen when he clapped eyes upon the youthful and noble visage of Lady Stark. She was yet young and in good health and apparently able to produce healthy children.

If the parents were thrilled about the match, the children were not so much in favour of it. Lyanna found Lord Lannister's twins to be abominable creatures, especially Cersei. She would creep into the nursery and pinch her tiny brother, leaving bruises in his arms and legs. The babe would weep until Jaime came and led his sister away.

Taking pity on the poor, barely-deformed creature, Lyanna would sometimes take the child in her lap and tell him stories. Or rather them, as Benjen would trail after her, all under the watchful eye of a nursemaid.

It was then much a pity that no one had asked the children for their consent to the marriage. They would have banded together, for the first and last time, to be sure, and yelled put a denial so loud that the King himself would hear it in his throne room.

But Lord Lannister and Lady Stark were determined to bind themselves to one another in the most sacred way. So Lyanna and Cersei were forced together to share lessons and dresses and dolls and jewels, while Ned and Jaime could often be seen practising together in the yard.

"Is it not marvellous to have a sister?" her mother would ask when she sometimes came upon the two girls. "I was very glad for my own sister."

Yet Cersei was certainly not glad for hers, not was Lyanna any more than that. It could be said that they loathed one another if not for the fact that aside from sharing what they had to, the two girls avoided being together. Lyanna would escape to the nursery, and Cersei would flee only the gods knew where.

Such was the life of Lyanna Stark in the house of Tywin Lannister upon her ninth nameday.

 

*

*

*

 

A short shriek rang in the hall followed by peels of laughter. One might wonder why no Septa come rushing up the stairs, cane in hand to chastise those who would disturb the peace in such fashion. However, neither hide, nor tail could be seen of such a stern woman. The shrieking continued, mingling with laughter and words of censure.

It had been a longstanding rule that if one valued their clothing and general well-being, one would not get between a dispute of the children. As Lord and Lady Lannister had taken themselves off to King's Landing at the behest of the King himself, an army of servants had been left to provide nourishment and other thing needed by the younglings. Eddard Stark had been left in charge of his siblings, being the eldest of them all and Jaime was to offer his full cooperation.

As it happened, those two much preferred the training grounds to their sisters' frequent – and rather loud – bickering when they happened upon one another, so they avoided such scenes, a natural consequence of their good sense and survival instincts. Benjen would trail after them.

Cersei, whose whole life felt as if it had been turned upside down by the arrival and continued lingering of these pests she had been forced to call brothers and sister, was understandably distressed to see the one creature she loathed more than the Starks in Lyanna's arms, gurgling and making happy noises. She had, consequently, made a valiant attempt to pry the little monster from Lyanna's arms, but all that earned her was a green glob of pea soup in her hair.

"Leave off," Lyanna told her, shielding the babe in her grasp from Cersei's harsh glares. "Don't you have a dulcimer to play? Or needlework to do?"

Both girls had been instructed in the fine arts of playing instruments and of creating pleasant needlework. If Lyanna excelled in the lessons pertaining to the beautiful instrument she'd been given as a gift by the lord of her new household, then she was a complete disaster at needlework. Cersei, while adequate enough when playing the dulcimer, was excellent with her own needlework.

A deep and never-abating rivalry had blossomed between the sisters. They would often taunt one another and try to outmatch each other in all endeavours. But, of course, each had her own talents to display. Praise was given to both from both proud father and mother. It was quite impossible to declare one or the other the victor of these skirmishes.

"That thing," Cersei pointed at Tyrion as she spat out the words, "that little monster took my silver bells!" Already a full head taller than Lyanna, Cersei loomed over her, green eyes sparkling with malice. "Make him give them back, hateful creature."

Glancing heavenwards in silent exasperation, Lyanna placed her hands on her hips like she had seen her mother do when scolding one of them. "That is what has you so miffed? Silver bells?" She turned around and rummaged through a pile of objects that Tyrion had been playing with. Something clinked softly as it flew through the air. "There."

If Lyanna had hoped that Cersei would be appeased, she was to be disappointed. Cersei inspected the object, her eyes growing darker and darker still. "Look at what he did." She shoved the bells back into Lyanna's hands. "He bit them."

Well and truly frustrated, Lyanna threw them to the ground. "And I'll bite you, if you don't leave." Grey met green and held, neither willing to admit defeat.

Behind them Tyrion had started crying, whether from hunger of because he was feeling threatened remained an uncertainty. For a moment longer, Lyanna held Cersei's gaze, but the piteous sounds of the babe wrenched her away. She turned towards Tyrion and lowered herself down to the ground attempting to calm him.

The perfect opportunity had arisen for Cersei to pay her back. Stealthily, she made for the bow of pea soup that was still half full. She took it in her hands and dumped its whole contents over Lyanna's lowered head.

The thick liquid trickled down her hair and beneath the hem of her down. Lyanna could do little but howl in dismay.

It was then that the Septa braved her own fears and poked the head in. Her plump cheeks reddened at the sight that greeted her. The laughing toddler on the floor and the two very filthy maids barely took note of her. Lyanna had lunged for Cersei, who had managed to outmanoeuvre her and evaded. But only for a few moments, as Lyanna caught her by the skirts and pulled.

Though taller and a bit stronger than Lyanna, Cersei, having not expected the force behind the younger girl's haul, toppled over. They both fell to the ground, a mass of writhing limbs and yells of protest. The Septa, thick and burly as she was, had a hard time prying them apart.

"No more!" the woman yelled. "No more, or I shall write to your parents and sent the raven right away with the message." She picked the babe on the up and deposited him in his cradle.

Fear struck by the threat, the two girls marched each into a different corner of the room. Such scenes as the one that had just taken place were not tolerated when their parents were present. More than once, both of them had had their ears pulled for causing such a scuffle. At least when their parents were home they had to observe a strict schedule. But in their absence, they were not to be dictated to – unless the threat of their disobedience made known loomed over them.

"Both of you shall bathe and don clean clothes and you are to see to your instruments and lesson," the septa instructed, breathing hard. She left them to order the baths.

Alone in the room, Cersei and Lyanna looked wearily one at the other.

"What cheek," the older one grumbled. "That hag, how dare she order us about?"

"I think we should listen," Lyanna spoke, yet her eyes shone with mischief. "We should play her a song. You bring the lute. I bring the pipe."

Similar looks crossed their faces as understanding was reached between them.

 

*

*

*

 

Lyarra sighed softly and ran a hand over her skirts to straighten them. She once again checked to see if her hair had remained securely tied. A hum of pleasure made its way past her lips at the discovery that not a single strand was out of place.

The door of her bedchamber opened to admit her husband. Lyarra offered him a smile by way of greeting. She felt his eyes roam her form, but did not acknowledge it with anything more than a rather long blink. Having added the last touches to her appearance, Lyarra, pleased with herself, turned fully towards Tywin for one last inspection.

"Very good," her husband said, his appreciative gaze sliding to the curve of her waist. "I shall see you later." Not a demonstrative men, Tywin could do with just touched his hand to hers briefly and then returning to his duties. But Lyarra would not let him go until she had curled her fingers around his hand and squeezed it with affection.

Having no words to give him, Lyarra allowed her husbands to be on his way. She herself was to meet the Queen in Maegor's holdfast and keep her company. Lyarra did not mind it much, truth be told. Rhaella Targaryen was not outgoing, not cheerful, but with a husband like hers, one needn't wonder why. The poor dear was abused frequently and visibly and no one could do a thing for her. Not as long as her madman of a husband clung to life as tightly as a rat would to a piece of cheese. Eventually, one cat or another would catch that rat. The thought put a smile upon Lyarra's slips as she walked through the corridors, making her way to where she knew the Queen could be found.

The stern Septas that never left her side were ever-present, their frowning faces sour enough to curdle milk. It had to be the fact that they were dry husks inside which accounted for their general unpleasantness. Lyarra did not acknowledge them even with a nod. The Queen might be too weary to show any disrespect, but she would double her efforts to vex those hateful, spiteful creatures.

"Your Majesty," Lyarra greeted the other woman softly, falling into a deep curtsey. She would also strive to show Rhaella that she mattered. "May I join you?"

Looking up from her embroidery, the Queen dared a small smile and a nod of her head. Her eyes were red and puffy. Lyarra had to wonder if the King had availed himself of his husbandly rights the previous night. She didn't dare ask the question though. It was one thing to show kindness and quite another to be foolish. Instead of offering comfort, Lyarra began discussing various subjects, from the latest fashion to the famine predicted by some Maester or another whose name she could not recall.

It was likely the only news the Queen ever got, as her two gaoler did not seem much inclined to make conversation with her. "I have heard," she began, a small smile playing on her lips, "that Your Majesty's son has turned nine and ten. Congratulations." She went on to recount that she had heard the Prince was skilled with the high harp.

"Indeed. He much enjoys playing that instrument," Rhaella confirmed, beaming proudly at the other woman. "Have you had the chance to hear him?"

"Unfortunately not." Lyarra had made the acquaintance of the prince, but there had rarely ever been any occasion upon which to linger by his side. But as she spoke, a seed was planted in her heart. "But perhaps, if Your Majesty were to visit at my lord husband's seat, we might make a concert of it." She dearly hoped that Lyanna and Cersei had been practicing like they'd been instructed.

"Oh, I know not," the Queen said, an unsure look upon her face. "His Majesty might not permit it."

His Majesty would not permit it indeed, Lyarra found later from her husband. At least not at first. But, due to some miracle – Lyarra was suspicious of ant any rate – the King did bend his will. He would permit his wife to attend as well as his son, but he himself would preside over the small gathering.

For the next few days, Lyarra could be found running from the godswood to the Sept and praying, praying, praying. Not only for her daughter, but for the Queen and the realm also.

"I should like to have fish," she told her lord husband as they retired for the night, just a few days before they were to depart. "At the banquet, my lord. Fish is very good." It also had bones, Many tiny bones. Well, a lady could hope.

"We shall see," Tywin replied. But as his hand slid to her slightly rounded middle, Lyarra knew that her wish would not be completely disregarded. And that was quite enough to put her in a good mood.

"I have written to let them know of our return and the minimal preparations which must be made," she assured her husband as his fingers stroked her waist. She shifted slightly as he brushed over a ticklish spot. "It is wise though?"

"Even it weren't, the matter is settled," Tywin offered. He soon left her to her rest, insisting that her state required long hours of sleep. But Lyarra could not find her peace. Something churned inside of her and it was most definitely not the fruit of her labour between the sheets.

Yet, as there was naught to be done, she had little choice but to close her eyes and force herself to drift off to sleep. She had done the best within her power and that ought to be enough, she thought just as she was falling into a deep slumber. A mother's duty, Lyarra would remind herself later, in a congratulatory manner too, was to ensure the happiness of her children, no matter how she went about it.

Waking with the dawn, while not pleasant, was very efficient in that it allowed Lyarra many hours to think on her options and considers what steps were to be taken. And so she did.

 

*

*

*

 

Rhaegar regarded Lady Lannister with suspicion as she held his mother's hands in her own and whispered in the Queen's ear. Life at court had taught him a great deal, not the last of which was that those who seemed the friendliest of the lot were usually the quickest to betray.

At his side, Arthur choked once again on his laughter. He would the whole matter laughable, much to Rhaegar's displeasure. "My friend, only you would protest good food and beautiful women," his Dornish companion had said as they'd begun the long road to Casterly Rock. "You act as if are being sent to your death," Arthur remarked, uncharacteristically mild. That made Rhaegar even more suspicious.

"Might as well," the Prince grumbled under his breath, knowing fully well that would annoy Arthur.

Far from ready to show his irritation, Arthur continued his teasing. "You are twice as lucky now. Lord Lannister had acquired a second daughter. Just think, Rhaegar. You can now safely play Aegon the Conqueror and no one would fault you for it."

With a groan, The Prince punched Arthur's arm, subtly through, so none might notice were they to glance at the two. "What Aegon? Do stop, Dayne, or you'll find yourself left at the tender mercies of those two sisters you speak so fondly of." Few things terrified Arthur more than marriage-minded simpering maids.

Felling that he had made his point, Rhaegar turned his eyes to the road once more and cursed the sun and the heat. Dust. There was dust everywhere. He was covered in it. Gods be good, he had dust in his mouth too. Needless to say, his mood was not improved by such conditions. Only one occurrence could have possibly made it worse, but thankfully that did not seem likely to happen. Glancing towards the wheelhouse that bore his father towards their destination, Rhaegar felt relief wash over him. It was to be hoped that the King did not wish to ride – at any time. The Seven knew what ideas would take root in that sick head of his. Disgust rolled through Rhaegar at which he shuddered involuntarily, thankfully, he was able to mask his reaction.

He considered Arthur's words with greater care though. His father's acceptance of Lord Tywin's invitation had come as a surprise. For years, Rhaegar had left like a fox being hunted, as the Lord Hand tried to shove in his – decidedly unwilling – arms his daughter. The King had protested. Perhaps the single kindest act his madman of a father had done in his entire life, some may argue that it was the very single.

Yet, as Lady Lannister her own children brought forth to the Rock, his father's mind changed. Rhaegar was far from stupid. He had understood well enough what his father wished. The only question was if he himself was willing to do it. In truth, he was rather curious about the new additions to Lord Tywin's house. Cersei and her brother were known to him, but Lyanna Lannister – or perhaps she had remained a Stark – and her brothers were unknown to him. There was one certainty, it wouldn't be Cersei to be his bride.

"At least attempt a smile," Arthur advised him, nudging him none too gently in the ribs to let him know they were being watched. He had his uses, that friend of his, when he put his mid to it.

Whatever intention Rhaegar had towards these games the ladies so enjoyed playing, he knew that some things could not be avoided. He swallowed his annoyance, managing to ignore it long enough to incline his head politely at the two ladies looking with curiosity towards him and Dayne. "All I shall be hearing for the next few weeks is how accomplished one or the other of those girls is."

"You might get a demonstration," his friend suggested, the implications decidedly lacking in innocence. At Rhaegar's glare he merely smiled with accustomed grace. "You are entire too irritable on this fine day. It cannot be only the prospect of wedding that has you so."

"Right you might be, Arthur, but I have no plans of discussing it with you." Knowing when it was time to let go, Arthur merely shrugged. Of course, eventually, he would find out what worried Rhaegar, but it was a lesson learned a long time ago that the Prince could be as stubborn as a mule when it suited him. And it suited him often enough.

It was Rhaegar's hope that he might be done with the whole issue in a short span of time. And along solve the matter of marriage too. It had gone on long enough to be sure and it was growing less and less likely that his own mother might bring forth a daughter. In truth, Rhaegar was rather pleased with that. His poor mother had suffered enough in wedding someone of her own blood and history had a nasty habit of repeating itself. The quicker he was about finding a bride and appeasing his father, the quicker he could turn to important matters.

"If you'd only make an effort," Arthur cut off the train of his though, "I am sure you'd find a lady willing to consider taking on that burden which always pressed upon your shoulders."

"You enjoy vexing me." Well, it was the truth. Arthur enjoyed mocking people and situations and Rhaegar was his only available target at the moment. "You are very lucky I consider you my friend, Dayne."

"So you keep telling me," the Dornishman confirmed. "But I have yet to see the luck your friendship affords me. Look at you, always sullen and morose. This is hardship, I tell you."

"Then be off with you," Rhaegar challenged. He even managed a smile at the face Arthur pulled. "I cannot have people saying you keep me company under duress."

Arthur snored. "Nay. I think I'll stay. Watching the dragon struggle with the little lions might be something worth seeing."

"It pleases me beyond words to have provided entertainment for you, Dayne." They shared a look of mock contempt before laughing. At least he would have a shield in Dayne. Who knew, it might even be that he would escape unscathed from the encounter.

 

*

*

*

 

"Where is Jaime?" Ned asked, entering the bedchamber in his dusty clothes. He waited patiently for Lyanna to get up from the ground and straighten her skirts. He even took one of the silver bells from her hair. "Well?"

"He is not here," Lyanna replies with a shrug. "Why would he be in my bedchamber?" She snatched back the bell and repositioned it in her hair, a mild smile crossing her face.

"This is Cersei's bedchamber also." The fact that her brother pointed that out failed to impress Lyanna, as doubtlessly it should have. Seeing her confusion Ned heaved a sigh. "He might have wished to confide in his sister."

"In my– apologies, I mean our bedchamber?" Her brother's eyes narrowed at the mockery and he opened his mouth to reply in kind when the door burst open again and Benjen came running in with a triumphant look on his face. "Don't drag mud all over the floors!" Lyanna chided the boy, hurrying to get him out of the room.

"But I found Jaime," the child complained, pouting as he was pushed out into the hall. "I have to tell Ned."

"You can tell him from the hall," Lyanna countered. "There's no need to get dirt on everything."

"Where is Jaime?" Ned broke in between the two of them before the conflict could escalate any further. "He usually arrives in time for training."

That was indeed strange, Lyanna decided. "Is he with Cersei by the rocks again?" she questioned. It would be a lie to say she was surprised by her brother's nod. The twins would sometimes sneak away and spend some time together. Lyanna imagined there were still some secrets best left between siblings.

"If you knew where he was, why didn't you say so?" her brother groaned. "Lyanna!"

"I didn't know where he was," Lyanna insisted. "The mud on Benjen's feet reminded me that I had seen those two by the rocks sometimes. Really, Ned. They must be wanting to speak privately sometimes. It would do you good to remember that Jaime Lannister is not truly your brother."

"And you should get it through your skull that we are stuck together so long as Tywin Lannister and our mother live." She'd annoyed him, Lyanna knew. "Brothers can also be chosen."

"Do as you will," was her reply. Ned was welcome to embrace Jaime as his brother if he so wished, but Lyanna did not have to think of Cersei as her sister. "But I still maintain that you should wait for Jaime to arrive in his own time."

"I'm not a lack wit, Lyanna," Ned growled at her. Her brother could be quite unpleasant when he put his mind to it. Even more so than Cersei at times, and Cersei was quite spiteful on her good days. "I know when to leave well off."

Scoffing at his pronouncement, Lyanna pushed past him out the door. With a look towards Benjen, she decided to take matters in her own hands. "Well, you can go wait for Jaime and I shall take Benjen to wash his boots."

"Why do I have to wash them? A servants can do it," her young brother rebelled.

"Nevertheless, you are going to be washing your own boots on this day, my brother, else it shall be the floors you wash." The threat ensured that he would listen, at leasy enough to get his booths clean. "I'm going to fetch Tyrion."

"Shouldn't you let the child sleep?" Ned questioned, an unsure look on his face. "You know we're not supposed to take him out. Lord Tywin would hardly approve."

"Lord Tywin is not here," Lyanna countered in a soft manner. "He's just a boy, Ned. A boy who is unfortunate in his birth. He sleeps enough."

It had been one of those rules instilled by Tywin Lannister that his youngest son should be kept out of sight at all possible times. As such Tyrion had spent much of his time locked in the nursery and at first Lyanna hadn't dared to defy the order, though she'd sneak into the room much to the Septa's annoyance. However, she'd found that with care, the child could be slipped out into the open and allowed to play in the gardens for some time.

Tyrion was, predictably enough, in his little bed, though he was not sleeping. Deformed as the boy was, his mind was sharp and quick, and rather inquisitive. He was rather liked Benjen had been at that age. Or so Lyanna imagined, for she didn't rightly remember Benjen when he'd been a babe. Had she not know Tyrion's age, Lyanna realised, she would have had a difficult time of guessing it. Boys his age were normally twice as large and trice as loud, but not him. Tyrion could barely stand on his own two feet, short and crooked as they were.

"Now then, baby brother, shall we pretend I'm a snark come to carry you off into the wild?" she inquired sweetly, bending over to pick him up in her arms. "I'll drag you to my lair and then I'll cook a good stew out of you."

"Yuck." It was safe to say that stew was not among the favourite foods of his. Lyanna could not help chuckling at the disgusted face he pulled. "Anything but stew."

"I'll roast you on a spit then." Tyrion merely giggled at the threat and held onto her a little tighter than before. She carried him down the stairs, Benjen trailing after them, possibly making faces at the child. Lyanna couldn't tell as she hadn't eyes in the back of her head like their mother.

Once outside, they tiptoed to the brook, careful to avoid the eyes of too many servants. Those who did see them knew well enough that it would come to nothing even if they tried to take the child from Lyanna. She'd merely clutch him tighter and pretend she didn't hear a word of their protests. In fact, it was one of Lyanna's talents, hearing only what she wanted to hear.

"Benjen, enough with the faces now," she said when they finally reached the destination. Tyrion was deposited on a patch of soft grass as Lyanna watched Benjen.

Her brother paid her back, of course, flinging water at her. Some even landed on Tyrion who'd crawled closer to them.

 

*

*

*

 

"You cannot do this," Cersei hissed, nails digging into the skin of Lyanna's hands. "Do you wish to shame us before the whole realm?"

Lyanna shook off her hold. "The whole realm already knows about him," she pointed out, visibly unconcerned. "Tyrion Lannister is not a secret to be hidden away. He's a sweet boy and he deserves to be treated like you and me."

"He is not," the blonde protested. "He is a little monster and I will not have him ruining everything for me. You will not take him to greet our visitors."

Gnashing her teeth together, Lyanna held back the impulse to tell Cersei exactly who the monster was. She knew, however, that she would have had, indeed, a hard time of taking Tyrion out of his chamber. Lord Tywin's letter had instructed the Septa not to allow anyone near the child. She had thought that perhaps she could appeal to Cersei on the matters, yet she been wrong, and not in a most unexpected manner.

"Very well. Then I will remain here with Tyrion and you may greet the visitors." And that was her own folly talking. As part of Lord Lannister's household, she too had the duty of acting a proper daughter and receiving the guests. Shirking her duty could not end well. One year older and much the wiser for it, Cersei promptly slapped the back of Lyanna's head. The stinging blow ripped a yelp from the she-wolf. "You cow! What was that for?"

"For being a lack wit, you sow," Cersei growled back at her. "You will come with the rest of us and do what father said, if I have to drag you by the fair. I will not lose face because you feel the need to act the uneducated peasant for my little brother. Tyrion will survive a few hours of your absence."

"I might not survive your presence though," Lyanna grumbled under her breath, rubbing the sore spot in a gentle manner. And since no good deed went unpunished, Lyanna determined that she ought to make Cersei lose face in another manner, one which would not seem anything but accidental at its very worst.

But before such grand plans could be actively pursued, they had to ready themselves. Of course Cersei insisted that she be bedecked in her costliest gown and her hair had to be arranged just so. Lyanna merely gave a snort. She chose a nice kirtle in the colours of her own house with not too many decorations and caught a single red rose in her hair. She would have better liked one of the Winter Roses of the North, but none were to be found that far South.

Apparently males did not need quite so much time to ready themselves, for Ned, Jaime and Benjen were already in the yard when she and Cersei arrived. Lyanna walked next to her eldest brother and insinuated herself between him and Jaime.

"Are they close?" Cersei's voice rang out.

"According to those banners streaming in the wind they are," Ned pointed out, his voice holding just a light edge of mockery.

"Are your eyes not working well, my dear sister?" Lyanna added, not even bothering to conceal the mockery from her voice.

"Not this again," Jaime groaned. "Can you not get along for a few hours at least?" Much as he seemed to respect both his sisters, the old one and the new one, Jaime could be quite critical of their behaviour when it suited him. "Gods, I cannot wait for the peace of Lord Crakehall's service." At least there he wouldn't have to wonder if someone put stinging nettles in his soup thinking the bowl was Cersei's.

"We already apologised for the soup," Benjen piped in. At Jaime's glare he had the good-grace to look abashed. "It was Lyanna's idea."

"Traitor," his older sister accused promptly.

Before anyone could start another row, however, Ned put his foot down, disciplining all within sight. Begrudgingly, the step-siblings and proper siblings made a tenuous peace, each promising to themselves that a time for retribution would come. And as an old saying went, revenge was a dish best served cold, the spirits calmed somewhat, if only to provide the minds with proper conditions for plotting and scheming.

If ever there was a more mismatched family than that brought together by a lion and a she0wolf, rarely had it been seen in the Seven Kingdoms. But one did have to be impressed with the air of reserve and superiority exhibited in such a studious manner by what most would term mere children. For what were these wolves and lions but children playing at games they did not understand?

The time for squabbling was past, for the first riders – donning armour and white cloaks – rode into the yard, much to Jaime's delight. Lyanna merely rolled her eyes at the awe on the face of all her three brothers and thought it extremely unfair that Tyrion had not been allowed to see them too. She was more interested, however, in seeing her mother than she was in any guest that set foot on Lannister land.

Alas, it was the right of those from nobler lines to come first within the home of Lord Tywin. As such the King's wheelhouse followed his knights and from within in came outside the King himself and his beleaguered Queen.

Behind them rode the Prince. Lyanna took a moment to observe him. She noted, in a rather disturbed manner, that Cersei had been right. He was the most beautiful – aye, she meant that – man she has ever seen.

Only after came Lord and Lady Lannister. Bowing, curtsies and introductions ensued. Lyanna was more than a bit traumatised when the King ogled Cersei. Had it been any other man giving her such looks, she would have been amused, as it was, however, she was siding with her golden sister – though somewhat reluctantly.

"And this must be your other daughter," Aerys said, his gaze finally landing on Lyanna. He looked at her expectantly. "What is your name girl?"

"I am Lyanna Stark, Your Majesty," she replied, half-wondering if the man's memory was weak. Lord Tywin had already told him what her name was.

"A Stark. Excellent." Unfortunately his words failed to produce any sort of relief. Lyanna did wish to know why her being a Stark was excellent. She did, however, want to run all the way back to Winterfell.

 

*

*

*

 

Seldom had he had the chance to participate at a gathering more awkward than that which took place in the halls of Lord Lannister. It was not the decorations, for whoever had done them partook in an impeccable taste. Nor was it the food, surprisingly enough. The King had the grace not to look like someone was trying to poison him for once. But that, Rhaegar suspected, had more to do with the fact that he had undoubtedly found a way to further prevaricate and dangle before Tywin that which he wished to obtain.

"You know, frowning quite so hard might ensure that your face remain stuck like that," Arthur noted before sipping some of his wine.

"I am not frowning," Rhaegar contradicted, drinking some of his own wine. It was rather good, aromatic. "I am contemplating."

"Contemplate with a merrier mien then. We have to at least appear unknowing, Rhaegar." Arthur busied himself with a rib in the next moment, for just one moment raising his eyes from the plate in order to look at Cersei Lannister.

"What is it, Dayne. Struck by love, are you?" the Prince teased. Cersei Lannister blushed as their eyes met. Rhaegar looked at the alleged sister who was rolling her eyes. Lyanna Stark seemed rather unimpressed at the royal party. "The younger one may actually posses a lick of sense."

When noticing that she too was under scrutiny, Lyanna met his stare, held it for a heartbeat and then promptly returned to her food. Rhaegar could not rightly tell because her hair formed a protective curtain around her face, but he thought that she too grew red with heat. Smarter she might be, but not immune. That was interesting.

"Me?" Arthur coughed. "I rather think you are the one who had his heart captured."

"Why would you think that?" Rhaegar questioned. He took a piece of meat and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"You are still staring at the younger sister," his friend whispered conspiratorially.

With a start, Rhaegar realised that Arthur was right. He had been looking at Lyanna. His gaze broke away from her. Perhaps that had been the reason for which the girl's posture straightened drastically in the past few minutes. He laughed lightly.

"It takes more than a pretty face for me to fall in love. I'm not you, after all," he rejoined, throwing his friend a dry stare. "But I will admit I'm interested."

"Why? Because unlike her sister she doesn't fall all over herself to accommodate you when you walk into the room?" Well, the best friends were those who knew the answer before a reply was given.

Rhaegar was about to answer verbally when something caught his eye. Lady Lannister seemed to be communicating with her daughter entirely through stares. Rhaegar looked between the two of them. mesmerised by the vivid emotions Lyanna's face portrayed. But then he realised he was likely intruding on a private exchange. He looked away, returning his attention to Arthur.

"You've read my mind." He was but half serious, of course. "We have discussed this, you and I." Even if he hadn't been particularly taken with the younger girl, it was for her that he had to declare. Yet he found that the possibility was not quite as unappealing as it had been before.

Arthur sighed. "You should try to see the full half of this goblet, my friend. She is young, healthy and not simpering. I'd say this is good." It was definitely better than the alternative his parents had considered a few years back. "If a few years I reckon she'll be only too glad for your choice."

"Because, of course, every woman in the kingdom dreams of being wed to a Prince," Rhaegar murmured under his breath. "Dayne, how can you understand women so well?"

"I'm Dornish," Arthur answered, tongue-in-cheek about the whole matter. "But truly now, what do you think of her?"

"I think she has potential." In fact, he considered her rather brave, truth be told. Not many people – and certainly very few of those who were as young as she – could hold their equanimity in the presence of his father. She had been disturbed by his presence. But she had masked it admirably.

"Shall we have some music?" their hostess suggested once the King had filled his stomach to the brim with the offered food. "Your Majesties, Your Grace?"

"I think that is a splendid idea," the Queen offered. She looked towards her spouse, her gaze pleading for something.

"Indeed," the King spoke, "let us see, Tywin, how good your daughters are."

The Lord Hand might have as well allowed a couple of aurochs to play for all the King knew about music. Aerys Targaryen was likely to fall asleep in the middle of it all. Reserving the judgement of his father's behaviour for a later time, Rhaegar gave a nod of his head. It was more than enough for two dulcimers to be brought in.

What followed was a perfect confirmation of the fact that the two daughter of House Lannister were at odds with each other. Sibling rivalry had grown wings with them and transformed into another thing altogether. It was amusing to watch. But Rhaegar found that he had grown curious as to what they like away from polite company,

As it was, they looked rather like two warriors trying to outdo one another in front of their liege lord. The music itself was more than adequate, though it seemed to him that Lyanna Stark was the more proficient one. Yet Cersei Lannister too was quite good.

"We might have landed in the middle of a war," Arthur commented lightly. Rhaegar could hear the amusement in his voice. Clearly they were of the same mind in this.

"I daresay we have." He continued to look at the two girls. The rose in Lyanna's hair had slipped and fallen to her feet, a bright spot of red against the pallid grey of her dress. She did not seem to notice, so engrossed was she in the music. "Who do you think will be the winner?"

Unbeknownst to them it would take many more battles spread along a great many number of years until a winner could be determined. For Cersei and Lyanna were unlike other warriors. They fought with wit and skill, soft words hiding threats and quiet gazes masking shouts – but perhaps more importantly, they were women bent on besting each other.

 

*

*

*

 

Jaime gnashed his teeth together, giving an irritable look towards Benjen Stark. The boy was a pain his side. He'd been trailing him all day long, perhaps on the orders of his older brother, and he was still keeping him from seeing Cersei.

His sister had promised they could have a few moments along, away from all eyes. And Jaime longed for that. But she seemed to have forgotten, so caught was she in the arrival of Rhaegar Targaryen. A soft curse made its way past his lips before he could stop it. Wide-eyed he turned to glance at Benjen, but the boy had just observed his sister coming down the hall, her small long face twisted in dismay.

Females were strange creatures, Jaime decided. He couldn't rightly remember what had started her most recent dispute with Cersei, yet in his heart he knew it hadn't been the broken dulcimer. After their musical performance was done – rather quickly at that too – both of them had made to return to the table, yet somehow Cersei managed to push her chair just so that the servant carrying Lyanna's instrument lost her balance and fell face first into the ground, splintering the instrument in the process.

How furious father had been. He even ordered the poor wretch whipped. Only Lyanna had protested to such punishment, reckoning perhaps that it was not warranted, but no one seemed to mind her. "On the morrow, you will have that flogging," the patriarch of House Lannister promised the cowering servant in a frightening manner.

The King was only too glad to nod his head and say that such behaviour must undoubtedly be rightened with a beating. Aerys Targaryen was of the opinion that anything could be solved through violence. Jaime had watched all that with a sardonic smile on his face. But even he had been aware of the rather dim nature of it all.

"Halt," he called out to his step-sister, putting himself in her way.

Lyanna made to pass by him, her eyes glinting with anger. "Out of my way," she ordered, her voice soft, but steely.

Jaime put his hand on her shoulders. Taller and stronger than her, he exerted an iron grasp of her thin form. "I'm your older brother," he reminded her, something in his voice sounding quite discordant. "When I say something to you, you listen."

"Is that so?" she questioned mockingly. In this they were quite similar. Lyanna Stark could be sweet, and most of the time she was. But at the same time, she was proud, somewhat quick to anger and nearly impossible to convince to do what she did not want to. In other words, as Ned would say, she had a touch of the wolf's blood. Just a touch though.

When in a good mood though, she was even willing to listen to his thundering about how father wouldn't send him to squire already. Jaime liked her, if truth be told. But he liked her brothers even better when they were not annoying him.

"Aye, that is so," he finally replied. "Take your brother with you."

Benjen, clearly affronted, protested that he would not leave until Jaime told him why he wanted to go out so late. "Nay, nay," the boy said with his most serious face, "I cannot let him go."

"Just tell the boy where you're going," Lyanna groused unhappily, clearly not in a welcoming mood. "After all, you aren't going to kill anyone, are you?"

Hissing softly, Jaime caught her arms and squeezed. "Help me and I'll help you," he offered.

Even the she-wolf felt the desperation in his voice. Her face softened, just a little, yet enough to tell Jaime that he had a chance. "Help me, will you?" she considered. "On the morrow, I want to take the child through the gardens."

"I'll distract father," he said after a short moment of silence. "Now rid me of this pest," he nodded towards her brother.

"I am not a pest," Benjen cut in.

"But you are," Jaime contradicted him, without ant bite the second time around. "Now leave me be, pest."

"Come, Benjen, help me find Ned," Lyanna told her younger brother in an authoritative manner. She held her hand out towards him.

Benjen's face scrunched in indecision, but he took his sister's hand. "I promised I would find out where he's going," the child complained. "Ned will be angry with me."

Much doubting that Ned would indeed be angry, Jaime sighed heavily. "If you must know, I'm going for a short walk outside. I'll sit a bit by the rocks with my thoughts. Here it's too noisy."

"Curious," the sole female murmured, "and here I thought you had none." She gave him an impertinent smile, as if she knew his every secret. Jaime bristled. Lyanna giggled to herself before sauntering away, Benjen trailing slightly after her.

Outside a cool breeze wafted through the premises. Jaime made his way to the rocks he'd mentioned and sat down. He looked straight ahead, at he knew not what. He waited, and waited, and waited some more. Thoughts ran rampant through his head, making his skull ache to the point where it became numb. Why had he bothered? Kicking a small rock with his foot after he'd stood up, Jaime felt pure rage welling within him. He wanted to yell out his frustration, but couldn't something stopped him.

It was the sound of laughter, not light and airy as Cersei sometimes laughed, nor tinkling and heartfelt like Lyanna Stark's. Nay, it was clearly amused, but graver, lower. Jaime could only conclude that it belonged to a man. He gazed discreetly at the road from behind the wide rocks.

The Prince and his companion were walking up the road, speaking something that he could not make out. The two were not even paying much attention to their surroundings. As they came closer and closer still, Jaime drew back as much as he could, but still paid attention. Perhaps he might even hear something of significance.

"I don't know," Arthur Dayne was saying, "that girl looks like she could be very much trouble. Did you see the way she protested? I thought she might do herself harm."

"She is rather impetuous," Rhaegar agreed, though he did not seem as concerned as his friend. "Some caution is all she needs."

Arthur laughed. "That's what you say now. Just you wait, and see what tune you sing in a few years."

 

*

*

*

 

They were planning something with possibly nefarious implications, Cersei decided as she spied Lyanna and her older brother sneaking out into the hallway. Given that the King's presence imposed some strict restrictions to their usual routine, it was partly understandable. Yet Cersei could not help but feel she should not allow them to carry on so.

Father had told them quite firmly that they were not to loiter about. If he even thought them to be behaving in such a manner, there would be dire consequences. Cersei had been more than pleased with that. It meant that Lyanna would no longer bring her little toad of a brother into their room, or take him outside for all to see as if he were a sweet boy that needed affection. And for some time, it had been thus.

But there was something about her step-sister which made Cersei doubt that the girl would remain as that until the very end. So, placing her brush down on the counter, she stoop up and dusted off her dress. She looked furtively out the window for one moment, wondering if she should find out whether anyone had gone to the gardens. But she decided against it. A soft gust of wind drifted through the chamber, a reminder of the fact that she could not linger if she did want to catch those Starks into their mischief.

Armed with cutting wit and steely determination, Cersei Lannister made her way through the halls, climbing stairs until she reached the nursery where her monstrous brother had been locked away. Father should have just given him away to some poor fisherman to make a servant of him. It was too late for that, unfortunately, as Tyrion was already used to a life of luxury, and he was growing more and more spoiled, always hankering for Lyanna's attention, whether it be for games or stories.

If only she could have thrown him out a window, Cersei would certainly have done it. But the little she-wolf was always around to protect him. She could not fathom a feasible reason for which Lyanna went through so much trouble for the imp, but there it was, the fact that she did, though, would foiever remain a blot upon her nobler faculties.

She opened the doors of the nursery, expecting to see Lyanna and Ned at play with her own beastling of a sibling, but what met her eyes was mere emptiness. Cersei walked deeper into the chamber and looked around cautiously. The last time such a scene had played out before her, Lyanna had been exacting revenge for the fact that Cersei had ripped one of her riding gowns. Despite the fact that it had been a brown ugly thing, reminiscent of a poor woman's dress, Lyanna had insisted that Cersei had had no right to get rid of it. And in retaliation she'd somehow contrived to drench Cersei's own golden gown in raspberry juice.

As Cersei came to find after a few more moments of close inspection, there was no another living soul in the chamber beside herself. Green eyes grew wide with fear and distaste. That stupid she-wolf had taken the child out. When the Prince could be walking around the gardens at that very moment. She would die if Rhaegar Targaryen ever saw the face of her little brother. How was she expected to charm a Prince when he was treated to the odious beast that was Tyrion?

More than a little upset about the whole matter, Cersei was soon enough running down the stairs in a mad dash, searching for Jaime. He was not in his room, nor was he in father's solar. He was not with their step-mother, for that woman was speaking to the Queen. And he was most definitely not at their usual meeting place.

That left only the gardens. And since Cersei had not seen the Prince and his ever-present companion either, her mind could only summon grotesque images of trouble. Just as she was about to rush out of her current place, she heard voices. One clearly belonged to Lyanna, the other, to her consternation, was Jaime's.

"Are you certain he is in the solar with the King?" Lyanna was asking, her soft voice barely audible as the wind picked up slightly. "I would hate to get in trouble."

"That is a lie, if I've ever heard one," Jaime countered. "You love getting in trouble. Perhaps as much as you enjoy pulling other with you." But there was nothing accusing about his tome. In fact, he rather seemed like he was having fun. Cersei palled with both rage and fear. "Do you like it here, little brother?" he questioned, putting emphasis on the adjective he'd thrown in.

"Aye," came Tyrion's voice in reply. It was at that point that Cersei could no longer hold herself back.

With a leap, she flew out from behind the rock and ran towards them. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, glaring hatefully at Tyrion and quite menacingly at Lyanna. "Stupid! You aren't allowed to take him out."

"But of course I am," Lyanna contradicted. "Father only said that he must not be seen." She had recently started calling Tywin Lannister by that name. She did it just to annoy Cersei, of that the lioness was sure. "And there is no one around to see."

"I do so hate disappointing beautiful ladies," a voice drawled, making the attention of all four step-siblings turn towards the source. Arthur Dayne stood there, leaning his shoulder against the rock. He had a small smirk on his face, reminiscent of Lyarra's expression when she found something very interesting quite by accident.

Cersei scowled. She had accepted his presence in her home for the Prince. But the Seven knew, she sometimes wished she could claw his eyes out. There was something almost mocking about the way he looked at them.

"And what do we have here?" he asked, stepping towards Lyanna in the next moment. He gave her a questioning look when she clutched Tyrion's hand and half=pulled him into her side. Arthur knelt before the child. "Who are you, little one?" He had made his voice surprisingly kind as she posed the question.

The boy looked at him with mismatched eyes, not even noticing the glares Cersei threw his way. They were all lost, she thought bleakly. All that she had worked for; nothing was to come of it.

"I am Tyrion Lannister," the dwarf answered.

 

*

*

*

 

His understanding of the younger mind, Rhaegar found, was not at its sharpest. He stared uncomprehendingly at the two boys before him, trying to piece together the blabbered speech they'd delivered about a river, some rocks and a storm. Even if he managed to get that, he could still not understand what it had to do with the gardens and why he should not step onto the small narrow dusty road which led to them.

"Once again, if you please," he requested, "why must I not make for the gardens?"

The same cacophony met his ears a second time around, made even more brutal by a sudden ray of sunshine sneaking from within the tree braches just to land on his eye and blind him temporarily. He listened carefully to the explanation, then promptly decided there was some secret involved and having no other matter to occupy himself with decide that solving a misery was quite the thing.

"You are not going to go there, are you, Your Grace?" the youngest Stark asked innocently, clearly unaware that it was a mistake on his part.

His brother nudged him, not at all gently, and gave him a harsh look. They were terrible liars those two. It occurred to Rhaegar that they were extremely lucky their mother hadn't decided to take them to court with her. King's Landing was much safer place for the Lord Hand that way.

"Ah, I am afraid I cannot oblige," Rhaegar answered the question with a smile. "You see, now that you have mentioned the garden, I am really interested in seeing it." Benjen's face fell and Rhaegar almost felt a wave of pity for the child, but he recovered soon enough, just in time to deliver the finishing blow. "And the two of you must come with me."

He had walked the same path with Arthur Dayne, but his friend had disappeared sometime during the hours of the morning, no doubt loitering about and taking in the sights. Rhaegar knew that he would return at some point. Unbothered by his absence, the Prince decided that he too would explore on his own for the time being.

And that was how he came upon the two small sentinels standing at their post. They made for a comic image, truly they did. Little Benjen trailed despondently after his brother and Ned, he believed that was the older one's name, cast him a sullen glance.

They walked for some time before they heard voices, distinctively young voiced. However that was not all. Rhaegar strained a bit but he could swear he picked up Dayne's voice too. He turned to look at the two boys following him. Both had gone rather white, a chalky complexion that spelled nothing good.

Truly intrigued at that point, Rhaegar decided against waiting anymore time. He gestured towards the boulders with his head and tiptoed closer. It was an easy thing for him to climb atop the rock. Tall and lean, he done his fair share of climbing as a child – at the insistence of Arthur, for Rhaegar himself had preferred jumping intellectual hurdles if it could be helped. But back to the matter at hand, he turned towards the brothers.

Benjen accepted his aid with a pout, but his older brother made do without any sort of help. They looked down upon whatever sight greeted them. To their utmost surprise – but mostly to Rhaegar's bewilderment and the other two boys' chagrin – a small child looked up at them with his eerily mismatched eyes.

It took not very long for Rhaegar to understand that he stood before, or rather above, that small creature that was rumoured to have made its home inside of Lord Tywin's keep.

"Tyrion!" Benjen said loudly, trying to catch the child's attention. "What are you doing?"

"Playing hide and seek," the little lion answered. He grinned up at them, seemingly unaware of the fact that they might have all landed in a spot of trouble. "Who is that?"

"Where is Cersei?" Ned countered.

"Somewhere with Lady Lyanna," a new voice entered the discussion. "I see you have finally decided to join us, Your Grace. A bit late to hide, but you may help us seek."

"How generous of you, Dayne," Rhaegar answered. He watched as Arthur picked the boy up in his arms.

More in awe than one would consider healthy were the other two boys. "Cersei? Playing with Tyrion?" Benjen questioned doubtfully.

"On pain of having all her beautiful hair shorn," Arthur replied solemnly. "I heard Lady Lyanna say it with her own mouth." At that he looked towards Rhaegar and winked. "I told you she'd be trouble before long," this he addressed to his friend.

Sliding down from his pervious spot, Rhaegar glanced at the dwarf – for it was clear the child was one. "I say we should not waste anymore time." The words were met with enthusiasm on the part of Tyrion, a wry smile where Arthur was concerned, and mild interest for Ned and Benjen.

"We'll go after the twins," Benjen said, walking to Arthur and Tyrion. "They always hide together." He turned towards Rhaegar as if to share a great secret. "Always. I know."

"Then we shall search for Lady Lyanna, won't we, Ned?" Rhaegar asked of the other Stark.

"I suppose we shall." The boy sighed and gave his brother a hard look. "Take care that Lord Lannister doesn't see you."

The warning was met with nods of assurance and the speediest departure Rhaegar had ever been blessed to see. "Do you know your sister well enough to hazard a guess as to where she might be hiding?"

"If it's Lyanna, then it's most definitely that she isn't hiding at all," Ned offered blandly. "But for the sake of appearances, she'll try to make it seem as if she were."

That was rather interesting. Rhaegar gave the boy a long look. "Why would she do that?"

"Because of Tyrion," Ned shrugged as if it were the most natural thing.

It was indeed a most interesting information to have hold of. Rhaegar followed Ned as he led them towards the stables. He confidently claimed that Lyanna was very fond of horses. "She rides very well and she would probably do it all day long if she could."

As the guess had been a rather easy one, it seemed only fair that Lady Lyanna was not actually hiding in the hay. Ned searched for her diligently as Rhaegar eyed a strong stallion that had started kicking at the small door of his stall.

 

 


End file.
